The Princess of the Fire Nation
by sophgoph
Summary: On her wedding night, Ursa learns what her marriage to Ozai will be like, and what the cutthroat world of the Fire Nation Capital has in store for her.


Ursa hid her tears on her wedding night. Ripped from the life she had always known and brought into the insular, pompousness of the royal court, she doubted she'd last a day. The wedding feast was the best food and wine she had ever had, or maybe she convinced herself it was satisfying because it was expensive. The clothes they had given her for the ceremony were the finest silk she had ever worn, and she was afraid she would contaminate them just by touching them from the inside.

Her mother and father bid her farewell. The Fire Lord and his son had taken her to the Capitol to be the wife and mother to princes, but she had no idea how she would do that without her parents' guidance. She clung to her mother's shirt and shed tears into it like a toddler, before being whisked a way to begin the awful work of bearing toddlers of her own.

The prince was in his chambers, waiting for her. When the servants opened the door and led her inside, she expected him to be on the bed, desperate to unclothe her, if not unclothed himself. Maybe they would have set up candles and burned incense, but he was in a chair with a book in his hand. She didn't see the title. It was something rather clinical looking, an analysis of history or battle strategies perhaps.

Ozai looked up only after she nervously called his name. He looked at her, and his lips pursed. "There's a wash basin over by the window," he said. "Go use it, you're eyes are all red and its unseemly." And then looked back down at his book.

Ursa did not move. The room was quiet. That would be the beginning of their marriage, it appeared.

"May I ask you one question?" she said. She felt sweat forming on the back of her neck.

He huffed, but indicated that he was listening.

"Did... how did you choose me for a bride?"

"What?" he said, making little effort to hide his annoyance.

"Of all the ladies in the court, from families of military prestige, land owners, clerics, sages, you could have chosen any of them to be your wife. But instead you chose an actress from a small town who's never even been to the Capitol."

"My father took me to see one of your plays before introducing me to you. I'd hardly call that acting," he said.

She sighed. "I'm just curious."

"Well, I could have chosen any of those ladies," he said, finally putting the book on a table. "From any of those families of nobles and officers and cortisans. In fact, I _did_. But my father chose you. So you'll have to ask him. Though I doubt he'll have time to answer any of your questions. He doesn't have time for mine. But he's quite smitten with you, so he may make an exception."

"So you're as uneager to be here as I am, then?" Ursa asked.

"I'm a Prince of the Fire Nation. This is part of my job. It doesn't matter if I want to be here or not. And it doesn't matter if you want to be here either, so I don't know why we're talking about it."

She could tell her new husband was tense, just as she was. "Well," she said. She began removing the pins from her long brown hair and laying them on the table next to him. She combed out her plates with her fingers, allowing him to watch. "Can we make an arrangement then? That we'll try our best not to make each other miserable, since we're stuck?"

Again he huffed, and leaned forward. "You're proposing an alliance," he said. "You have no idea where on earth you are, country girl. I am not your ally. You bear my name and you bear my children, but that doesn't make us friends. Do you understand?"

Ursa actually laughed. "We're married, aren't we, that's a bit more than friends don't you think?"

And that's when she first saw the change come over him. With one swift movement he tossed the entire table, with his book, her hairpins, his now tepid cup of tea, sideways onto the floor.

Ursa stepped backwards.

He took a deep breath. "Don't laugh!"

"I'm... I'm sorry...?"

"Don't laugh. You have been here for one day, country girl. This court, this palace... there are no allies, there are no friends," Ozai said. For the first time he made eye contact with her. She saw an angry, tense, and unhinged man in those eyes, but also a very, very tired one. How could someone as young as he was be so completely tired? "Not in your own country, not in your own family, not in your own bed. Everything you say from now own will be heard by everyone. And I don't say that to threaten you. It's the truth. You will be watched like prey, by everyone, and judged like a criminal. The walls... leak. What you say in one room, it will be heard in the next, and soon peasants on the street will share it during morning gossip. All those officers and cortisans, they wear fine silk and eat fine food but they're nothing but barbarians, and they will cut you down in an instant if they think it will gain them favor in some way. They are vicious. Do you have any idea how many attempts my father has had on his life, or even me or my brother? And there will be attempts on yours, I promise. There are no friends here, do you understand? I am not your fiend, and you are not mine. There are are only... agreements. And they mean very little."

Ursa looked at the door, wishing she could leave. Maybe if she ran fast enough she could join her parents in their carriage before they went home to Hira'a. But she had already said her vows. And she doubted she would get past the end of the hall before a guard stopped her. She waited for Ozai to sit back down before she spoke. "What do you propose our agreement should be?"

"You bear my children. I make you a princess. We tolerate each others' presence," he snapped back.

Ursa stood up a little straighter. She wasn't sure how to respond. She felt her heart pounding with fear, but sinking with sadness at the same time. Ever since she was a little girl she had wanted to get married and have a family, but this was not the type of marriage she'd had in mind, if you could even call it a marriage. "Okay," she said. "We'll have plenty of time to work out the kinks as we go."

"I should hope," Ozai said. He drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair for a long time. "Go wash your face. We have work to do."


End file.
